


Goddamnit Sammy (Literally)

by Symmet



Series: Unfinished Thoughts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: And he may have possibly slightly messed up just a tinge, It doesn't sell as well when everyone is crying, Nothing Sam cant fix, Probably for the best, So God decided some editting was in order, just a lil bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As of now unfinished, but I'd love to get around to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So Chuck is God.

It started very simply, really. Just another one of those days - Bobby was quietly doing Bobby things, usually watching the news, which was, as it had been during the Apocalypse, actually more distressing than the sports channel, although the occasional profanity from the other room was still likely linked to one team or another. Cas was missing, not that Sam would have known what to say to him in any case, Dean was hiding his despondence, masking it with the heavy smell of oil and metal and alcohol, letting it fester under his single-minded obsession with fixing the Impala. No one was really in a good place. Especially Dean.

Because what else are you supposed to do when your friend betrays you the way Cas did? In that sad, twisted way that complicated anger, that they knew Cas, and knew he had been desperate and tired, and he'd carried too much of the burdens they should have all shared over the last year.

And Sam knows Dean is blaming himself, and if they hate this new "god", they fear him, too, but he's not Cas. Is almost nothing like Cas, like one of those bad movie adaptions of book characters and almost nothing about them is acceptable or okay and everything about it is wrong, but just barely right enough to upset you deep inside because you almost recognize the parts of them that you loved. For one moment, Sam had seen Cas, when he had ordered them to bow to him, and they had been about to...

And then, in that slightly dejected, mournfully Cas-centric moment, he looked at them in a way that Cas would have, disappointed in a humble way that this creature would never understand, broken in the reassuringly human way Cas had once proven to be, and asked them 'what the point was if they feared him?'

The point was that it should have never happened.

Sam thinks Cas is in there somewhere. That all that power brought something capricious with it, smothered Cas under the illusion of security and safety and that stale happiness that should never shared. That some small part of Cas - a part everyone has, really - just wants to be loved. Forgiven. Wanted.

And maybe the only reason they were spared was because some part of him, that ached so much for them to rejoice rather than look on him with fear, remembered that when he had been his weakest was perhaps when they had loved him best.

Because Cas was family.

And Sam had stabbed that thing because it was as much like Cas as Lucifer was like Jess when he played his mind games - and Sam would know, because Lucifer had been haunting him, old memories pouring in like a dam because Cas had taken the wall, and if Sam wasn't drowning, he was going crazy, slowly, his mind eating himself out from the inside in a desperate attempt to escape itself.

And he can't let it show because Dean needs him right now, because Dean pretends to be indifferent, but Sam knows he's breaking inside, and he's not angry at this new Cas because he's too busy being angry with himself.

Because that's what Dean does.

Even when he was angry at Sam for lying about the demon blood, he spent most of his time feeling like a failure for not stopping Sam.

For not getting through to Cas.

For not being there for him.

So it starts out like one of those days, no job, Bobby drinking and watching the news in a gloomy stupor, Dean in the garage, trying to "gently" work out the dent in the hood with a crowbar for the third time this week.

Bobby gets up to go to the bathroom. And the phone rings.

Which leaves Sam on phone duty.


	2. Chapter 2

"Holy shit, Chuck?" Sam says incredulously to the phone.

They had forgotten about Chuck, although to be fair, he'd dropped off the map into another dimension, from what they could tell, the last time they had tried to contact him. Which was a long time ago. Like, before Sam was even back from Hell.

"Hi, Sam." came that weakly sheepish voice on the other end, sounding tired and yet insomniac-like at the same time.

There is that awkward pause, the one that often predominated any conversation with chuck. Sam has almost missed its authenticity.

"So, you've been off the radar." he says, trying to feel cautiously optimistic, although he knows that if chuck is calling everything is about to get much, much worse.

The nervous laugh is short, and, per Chuck's quota, short-lived and almost sounds a little miserable.

"Ye-ah, I was, uh, busy."

Same waits but they both know nothing else will be forth-coming.

Just because it's been that kind of day, Sam, just a little maliciously, says, "well, glad to hear you're okay, um, I'm gonna go now, but i'll call-"

"Sam, this is important." chuck says seriously.

"This being what? That Cas is god now and everything sucks? That Cas isn't even Cas?" Sam says in annoyance.

Another shocking thought occurs to him, "Are you getting prophetic dreams from him?" he says in slight horror.

"What? No, no, it's just..." Chuck takes a deep breath.

"Sam, we need to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

So Chuck is god.

Which amounts to typical when Sam gets over it enough to stop yelling.

So Chuck is GOD.

And he admits, perhaps not as viciously nor vehemently as Sam, that he "fucked up kinda bad."

And he has some very questionable idea of a plan. And if he was in the right state of mind, Sam wouldn't risk it, never, because he's afraid not of failing again but failing freshly so, that what he barely managed once might not be repeatable. But he's God and Sam has taken part in less reassuring plans so he can't exactly say much in the way of arguing for anything else.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification: Chuck is God AND he wants to send Sam's current consciousness back in time to fix shit and make sure Team Free Will never breaks up and Cas stays in the band.

Chuck rubs his hands together, Sam staring at him blankly from across the small table covered in what he strongly suspects are Supernatural Transcripts and empty beer cans.

"So there are some rules."

Sam groans, "Of course there are. What, don't tell anyone that I'm from the future?"

Chuck shrugs, "We-ll, sure, I mean, kind of. You can tell them if you really really want to, but I'd advise against it. It will really lessen the whole element of surprise on your side, and it'll be hard to prove since you're hoping to change the future you're claiming you come from, so -"

Sam rolls his eyes, "Okay, fine, go on." Forgetting for a moment it's God he's sassing and not an alcoholic prophet. Although at this point Sam wouldn't be surprised if it was really both.

"So there are conditions. Mostly about the people you can and can't save." Chuck says, then adding, "Well, mostly the people you can't save." He waits for Sam.

Sam's eyebrows raise in both expectancy and attitude, "No, please, continue." He says, "I'm waiting with bated breath."

"Watch it, Winchester," Chuck says, but maybe less Chuck and more God. And Sam can see it, the way the nervousness and anxiety drains away to something else in the lines of his face, "You can't save Jess, Sam."

Sam intakes a breath, but it was okay. He was planning on just never dating her, anyways.

Chuck/God shakes his head slowly and mournfully at Sam, as if - or more like because - he can read Sam's thoughts.

"Why?" Sam says quietly, voice pained.

Chuck sighs, "I cant send you back too far, Sam. The younger you get the less information you'll be able to keep in your brain. The best time to send you back would be the first night you get your vision, and by then it will be too late, no matter what you do. I don't want to cause you unnecessary pain so I decided to do it the night after she dies -"

Sam had started saying "No" halfway through Chuck's explanation but by the end he was standing up, furious, yelling.

" _Don't you dare_." He says, voice shaking with rage, "Don't you _dare_ say it's to prevent pain. You **_wrote_** this damn story. You _chose_ to do this to us, to _her_."

Chuck looks away then, letting go of a soft tearful breath, and Sam blinks as he realizes he'd been getting watery, too, as if all these old, left alone pains were being revved up again. Chuck mumbles, back to being little old Chuck, not God, just a flawed man with a massive headache, "I'll figure something else out then." Then he continues, ignoring - or perhaps accepting - Sam's statement, he takes a deep breath, "You can't save your father."

Sam gives a disgusted sigh, throwing up his hands to push the tears and hair away from his face so he doesn't use them to hit something instead.

"You can't save Dean from hell. If he makes the deal, you'll still fail to get him out of it."

"what!? How the hell am I gonna change anything, then!?"

"Sam. Lucifer was released when you killed Lilith at the church where he was sealed. So don't do it again. I'm sorry, you're not allowed to convince Dean out of doing the deal, although you can try to get him to live on without you- but you'll just cause him undue pain. You'll die no matter what, Sam. It's up to you to prepare him. And yourself. This is about free will. It always was and always will be, _don't forget that_. Dean will always make that choice to save you, and I won't change it and I won't let you change it, because it is free will you'll be impeding and I can't allow that."

Chuck is so serious that Sam bites down the urge to argue, to blame.

It's over and done with, in a way, already decided. He gives into the horrible realization that he's going to have to live through all of it, all over again.

"One last thing, Sam."

Sam chuckles darkly, "Oh, yeah, what?"

"You can't tell Chuck who he is. I am. We are. That thing that -" Chuck gives a short, frustrated breath, "No mentioning God. At all." He finally settles on.

Sam shakes his head, still chuckling without humor.

"You catch all that?" Chuck murmurs, knowing the answer.

Sam throws back his head to look up at the sad, ramshackle ceiling, "Yeah," he says quietly, "I got it all." meaning more than what Chuck asks, or maybe Chuck had been asking him that since the beginning. God only knew.

"Okay, Sammy, let's see Supernatural Revised." Chuck says, and before Sam can complain about the largely unnecessary pun, everything winks out.


	5. Chapter 5

When Sam opens his eyes, he's almost relieved to see Dean's worried and haggard face starring down at him. He's not a baby, so that's good. He'd half expected Chuck to send him back as a child anyways, maybe because it was an awful idea to send someone back with so much knowledge about their own fate, of so many other peoples' fates.

Maybe it was all a genie dream. Maybe it was -

"Sammy? Thank god."

_Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait -_

"Dean -"

He's pulled up and into a tight, painful embrace, a sharp pain shoots between his shoulder blades, a faintly familiar one, and Sam goes still for a moment.

_no no no no no no-_

Dean let go of him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, man. I'm just... I'm just happy to see you up and around, that's all."

Sam took a deep breath, no, it couldn't be happening, he needed to calm down, "Okay. Dean... what happened to me?"

Dean paused, "Well, what do you remember?"

Sam shook his head, "I-I don't -"

Dean nodded vigorously, as if he could calm Sam, "that— that kid, stabbed you in the back. You lost a lot of blood, you know.... It was pretty touch and go for awhile."

Sam's ice is running cold, the sense of deja vu is almost too much, and he says hollowly, "But Dean, you can't— you can't patch up a wound that bad."

Dean deflects it with ease, "No, Bobby could. Who was that kid, anyway?"

Sam's head is whirling, and he says, "His name's Jake. Did you get him?" already knowing the answer.

Dean shook his head eyes on Sam, hand on his shoulder, "No, he disappeared into the woods."

Sam was suddenly revitalized, suddenly remembered the gate, the gate was going to open, and then hundreds were going to get out, too many, he tried to swing his legs over the edge, "We got to find him, Dean. And I swear I'm gonna -"

But Dean held him down, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, Van Damme. You just woke up, all right? Let's get you something to eat. Huh? You want something to eat?" 

Sam's heart is breaking because this time he knows Dean is lying straight to his face. All he can manage is a nod, even though the hollowness inside has very little to do with food.

Dean nods with him, "I'm starving, come on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines basically taken from 2.22 All Hell Breaks Loose: Part Two  
> >:)


	6. Chapter 6

Sam glared at the sticky keyboard. Ewwww.

Knowing that Gabriel was behind it did little to alleviate his disgust and in fact served to heighten his fear of what it could consist of. At least this time he wasn't fighting with Dean, though Gabriel had upped the ante as much as possible and he was barely managing to avoid a fight with Dean as it was, even though he'd refrained from mentioning anything Dean did that he thought was gross or unacceptable. As it was, his patience was wearing thin watching Dean sit on the motel bed with a bucket of barbecue chicken wings watching Doctor Sexy M.D., so he decided it was in everyone's best interests if he left before he finally snapped.

He put down the gunked up computer - and swapped it for his coat. He would mention the possibility of a trickster when he got back, probably, but for now, with a little huff as he heard Dean smacking his lips on some sauce, he opened the door left. At least he'd gotten his wallet back from Dean after "some mysterious vandal" had slashed one of the impala's tires.

The moment he stepped outside he took in a deep breath of the fresh, sharp air. He could go to the library and fake research stuff, or brush up on old stuff. Or he could buy something to clean the keyboard with. Spic and Span or something.

With a sharp turn to the left, Sam continued down the sidewalk towards the mini mart a couple blocks away, letting go of himself a little in the brisk afternoon air, the only person out and about, which should have been the first clue in a college town, seemingly empty of pedestrians.

As Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, he thought about how to deal with Gabriel. They hadn't called in Bobby yet because they hadn't gotten fed up with each other (yet), but they would still have to deal with Gabriel's idea of an exciting exit, and now they were one man down. Maybe he could call Bobby in with some excuse. He could find something else close to a trickster that seemed more threatening and ask Bobby to come down.

 _After all Gabriel was a lot to handle_ Sam thinks, just as he rounds the corner into the Trickster's arms.

Speak of the trickster.


	7. Chapter 7

Well, right before he was shoved into an alley, anyways, Gbariel's face still and furious.

Oh. Damn. "You were reading my mind?!" Sam says in alarm and annoyance, "Seriously? That's sick. Mind spying on victims? Dude, not cool."

Gabriel's face spasmed, as if he was furious but shocked into some small humor by the incredulity of the situation, of Sam's familiarity. Unfortunately, pissed won out. Sam is shoved unceremoniously into a wall, "I like seeing people fume. Do I know you?"

Sam stares at him blankly, "Uh?"

Gabriel narrows his eyes, "Your soul is kinda blocked, Sammy-boy. Now, not a lot of people can manage that. That is, to block it from _me_. And, furthermore, you seem to know a _lot_ more than you really should. So, spill." He is dangerous, lightning bottled in a human body, a tiger staring out at Sam through narrowed eyes.

Sam sighs, "I'm not telling anyone-"

" _So_ not good enough. I can read your mind, _dude_ , which means others can read your mind. And I'm just _really_ curious, **how do you know**?" Gabriel's arm is pressing against his jugular, which is starting to get really uncomfortable.

Sam blanks his mind.

Gabriel tilts his head and gives an ugly smirk, "So that's how you wanna play this, Sammy-boy? Well, fine. See what happens when you play with the big kids."

Poof.

Gone.

Shit.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam snorts at the empty space Gabriel had occupied before flapping off to wherever the fuck he wanted. 

He throws his hands up - what the Hell was he supposed to do?! 

Then he sighed and walked out of the alley and continued towards the store. He might as well still pick up something to clean with anyways, since he was out already. 

When he gets back to the motel, Dean is using his computer.

Of course he was.

"Dude, there's like this really weird crap on your keyboard. What did you do to it?" Dean says, eyes still on the screen.

Sam leans over to see that twice the amount that had been present that morning has now amassed on his poor keys. Typical.

_Fucking thanks, Loki._

Sam grumbles vacantly as he puts one hand out for the innocent computer, "No clue. Went and got stuff to clean it, here, lemme -"

Dean moves to pass it to him when suddenly a key sparks and Dean is electrocuted.

"Dean!? Dean!" Sam says, dropping the Spic and Span as he kneels next to his brother's dead body -

_and wakes up to the smell of barbecue chicken._


	9. Chapter 9

Sam looks over to where Dean is closing the door, one arm holding a bucket full of fresh, steaming barbecue chicken, humming in delight at his breakfast choice.

"Oh, you fucker." Sam says viciously, aimed at Gabriel, wherever the fuck he was.

Fine. _Fine_. _**Asshole**_.


	10. Chapter 10

It continues in much the same way as last time. Or, what had been last time for Sam but hadn't even happened yet.

Well, he wasn't going crazy this time. And now it's a Thursday that he has to repeatedly live through. Which was great, he just loved having another weekday ruined by your friendly neighborhood trickster.

At least Heat of the Moment wasn't constantly playing, which was a definite plus, although it's now replaced with the overwhelmingly repugnant smell of barbecue sauce, so that was fan-fucking-tastic.

He didn't even bother with the memorization thing. 30 days in, as a morbid joke to himself he starts reading a book, memorizing the page he's on before Dean drops dead from whatever newfangled death Gabriel can cook up. He'll get up, go to the library, check out the book, and start from there. He usually gets about a paragraph in, three if he's lucky. And since he and Gabriel are both so stubborn, he's starting to think he might even get to start a new book before this is over.


	11. Chapter 11

One day, he decides to just lay in bed.

"Hey, Sammy, look what I got." Dean says as he enters with the barbecue chicken for the 67th time, unbeknownst to him.

When Sam doesn't answer, just keeps staring at the ceiling, his brother pauses, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just... feel like I've been doing the same thing for a while."

"Gonna go out today, maybe?" Dean says, less repulsive and more thoughtful than he's been for about a week, not counting all of the extra Thursdays they've been having.

"Nah, just gonna sleep in today, I think." Sam says quietly.

"You sure you okay?"

"Sure."

Dean nods slowly to himself setting down the bucket, "Okay. I'll uh, take a shower then."

Sam keeps staring at the ceiling and only closes his eyes when he hears the sound of Dean's skull crack against the shower head.


	12. Chapter 12

Gabriel makes himself known four days later.

Sam doesn't even bother with subtlety, "Seriously!?" He yells when he sees the librarian with a pink blouse under her ugly green and yellow jacket instead of a blue one.

The old, toad faced woman swings her face towards him in silent shock, half moon glasses and their little chains swinging with the motion.

Sam leans forward in anger, book he'd been in the process of checking out forgotten, "Really, though? Is this relevant in _any_ way?"

She looks at him sharply, "I'm sure I don't -" 

Sam puts on his angriest glare, (The one Dean secretly calls Queen Bitchface the First behind his back).

She makes an unapologetic face, pencilled lips thin across her face.

"Well fine, you caught me, whoopdedoodah, feel like talking yet?"

Sam tries to glare harder.

"No, huh? Well, Sammy this can go for a while, and I _really_ mean a while-"

"Yeah, I already _**fucking**_ know, Gabriel."

And immediately she morphs into a short, pissed man, "Hey, watch the name calling."

"Does it fucking matter here?" Sam waves his arms at the space around him, knowing the people watching in the library were about as real as the meat Dean had been eating every Thursday for the past 71 days, all of which had been - you guessed it - Thursdays.

He crosses his arms, "A part of me still can't actually believe you're pulling this shit."

Gabriel tuts, unmoved, "Well, deal with it, Whine-chester, because until you start talking -"

And Sam can _feel_ the finger snap, exit, and Dean tripping over a four year old in the children's section, so he hisses furiously, not even really believing that he'll get through in time, "How would _you_ feel if you had to watch  Michael die on repeat, you incredibly self serving, hypocritical _**ass**_."

Ah.

Fuck.

Complete stillness, and then Gabriel grins, putting the Cheshire cat to shame, angrier than Sam has ever seen him.


	13. Chapter 13

There's ice around the edges of Gabriel's ices, sparks of lightning flashing across his irises. 

He raises his hand.

"Fine."

And snaps.


	14. Chapter 14

They're back in the alley.

Sam just barely manages to stop himself from punching the archangel in the face, mostly because he doesn't need a fractured hand at the moment.

"Wise decision, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy." Sam snaps, _And stop reading my mind._

Gabriel quirks an eyebrow at him and Sam huffs in disgust and turns to leave.

"He-ey, I did _**not**_ say I was done with you yet." 

And damn if the Archangel voice doesn't force him to pause mid-stride.

Gabriel walks up to face him again.

"I'm not going to tell you. Mostly because I can't, partially because you won't believe me."

Gabriel scoffs, "Oh yeah, try me."

"Not interested. Not even remotely. Not even marginally."

"Sammy-poo."

"Seriously?"

"Sammy, darling, tell me or I'll _make_ you tell me."

"Oh. _My. **God!**_ " Sam finally snaps, "No means fucking **no**! Are you ignoring the rules now? Is _that_ who you are? Because _I_ thought it was only Michael and Lucifer who liked to bend the _**very simple idea**_ of consent. Correct me if I'm wrong. Please." Sam has walked right up into Gabriel's face without even reminding himself _Hello? Archangel?? Self preservation???_

Gabriel looks up at him for a moment in quiet, deadly shock, "Listen." He says slowly, icy, and Sam backs off, calmed down, "See, I know a thing or two about hiding -"

But Sam is so fed up with it, with everything, really, he had to wait _71 days for this conversation?_ Really?

"Yeah, I know. Witness protection program." Sam says before he can stop himself. Gabriel closes his mouth and leans back, waiting for another admission.

And all Sam can think is, _This is really fucking weird._

When Gabriel twitches, he realizes Gabriel's reading his mind again. Of fucking course.

He shuts off.

"No," murmurs Gabriel, "I'm sorry, go on."

Sam blinks. Gabriel has never once said sorry to him.

"You're supposed to know everything I don't and keep me out of the loop. And it's really fucking weird because it's suddenly, like, the opposite?" Sam says, almost to himself, really.

Gabriel leans closer, as if he can force Sam to relieve his memory if he looks hard enough, and maybe he can, but he doesn't do it. 

"Now I know a Hell of a lot of what you do, maybe - probably - even more."

Sam flinches when Gabriel's palm is suddenly inches from his face.

"What -" he starts, and Gabriel backs off, sheepish, quiet, raises his eyebrows in question rather than sarcasm.

_And what the everlasting fuck?_

_Gabriel doesn't ask **nicely** for things. What is this? Where are they?_

_What the Hell is happening?_

Gabriel has a slight intake of breath, and his hand hovers for just a moment before it's pulled away completely.

"I get the strong feeling we started off on the wrong foot. Or wing. Or claw. Or whatever you are."

Sam blinks owlishly at Gabriel, "I'm Lucifer's vessel. Do I get extra appendages that no one told me about?" He blurts out half sarcastically, half dead pan.

Gabriel inhales.

Sam nods, "Yeah, I know. I know about Dean, too. And Lilith. And, just - I know a lot."

"That's a lot to know," Gabriel finally murmurs, "Does Dean -?"

"No." Sam says quickly, "He doesn't, I'm the only one."

Gabriel nods slowly, hazel eyes on Sam, "And how are you doing? Not crazy yet? Even though last seventy or so days haven't been too conducive to that..." He frowns.

Sam suddenly realizes Gabriels worried about him, like _worried like a friend_.

He looks away and fidgets with the zipper of his jacket, then looks back at Gabriel, "I'm just trying to...manage it, I guess."

Gabriel is gazing up at him and, well. He's not being snarky or dirty or sarcastic or terrible so Sam's not really sure what to do with that.

Gabriel finally says, " _How_ do I know you? Besides who you are. How did we meet?"

Sam opens his mouth, then closes it, "I...we..." he struggles, "You don't...haven't... I mean, not counting the last 71 days, we met 2 days ago, you were a janitor."

Sam doesn't know how to say anything without breaking the rules.

"You don't know _me_ , but _I_..." he says hopefully.

"You know me." Gabriel says softly. Then he seems to whir into being, energy spurring a spark in his eyes, "Is it a time thing or a space thing? Who was it? Was it me? Oh, but you wouldn't know. Or _would_ you? Because, you know, I'm _me_..."

Sam shakes his head as he's bombarded with questions. It feels weird to be the one not only with all the answers but also withholding all of them, too.

"Oookay. Fine. _For now_. Truce, Sammaloo." Gabriel sticks out his hand and wiggles his eyebrows.

Sam fights the strange urge to grin, snorting as he takes the offered hand.

Is he...? No, Gabriel and he wouldn't be friends. Right?

"No more killing people in town, please. Or trickster-ing them. Or whatever. Or fake dying, I guess."

Gabriel grins, "Aww, faking my death is pretty snazzy, but since you know about it, I can't."

Sam shakes his head, hiding a smile on the inside, because this is all too surreal.

"It would have been spectacular, though." Gabriel whispers achingly, gazing off into the distance to Sam's right, "Chainsaws -"

"And women, hot, nearly naked women, yeah, yeah." Sam says with a chuckle as he remembers, missing the blink of sharp attention.

"Confetti, fireworks, ninjas." Gabriel says, watching Sam to see his reaction.

Sam just shakes his head again, sobering.

"I gotta go... Loki. Don't wait up."

Gabriel waves him off, "Yeah, yeah... _Sam_. See? I can do it too."

Sam's walking back to the motel before he remembers the keyboard. Oh well. He'll clean it tomorrow.

For now he's planning to unabashedly revel in Dean's terrible company.

When he looks back, Gabriel is gone, and for one little moment, he aches to ask Gabriel to join them now instead of later.

 _It must be lonely when your only company is your creations and other gods that don't even know the real you_ , He thinks.

But no, _He left because of Michael and Lucifer, how would being around Dean and I make him feel any better? He would not enjoy it, not their work nor their company. He'd prank them and that would be the extent of his amusement._

Sam turns away, shaking his head at himself as he ran a hand through his hair.

 _I'm going nuts_ , he thinks, _and shit hasn't even gotten real yet._


	15. Chapter 15

"Dean, promise me you'll last as long as you can." He's desperate, knowing he can't save Dean, but he can warn him, trying too hard and too long to save him, even though he knew he couldn't.

"What does that even mean, Sammy?" Dean is confused, now, seeing the severity of Sam underneath the panicked exterior, and it brings his calm and collected side out, the big brother, ever taking care of Sam.

"In hell. I don't know how many years you'll be stuck down there, but don't give in for as long as you can - Fifty years. If you can last fifty years-" The howls are terrible, ugly things, the hounds' claws scratching the pavement outside. Sam doesn't have enough time to explain.

"Sammy, you're not makin' any sense. What are you talking about...?" And Dean is worried, confused, and whatever weird mojo starts acting up on claimed souls is making Sam's face stretch and snarl whenever Dean looks at him, but Sam doesn't know it.

Sam lets one last, terrible gamble go and grabs Dean's shoulders as the door gives in.

" _Promise me that when you break, you know you went as long as you could._ " The tears in his voice shock some greater part of Dean awake, eyes snapping to Sam's and Sam almost feels like this is the Dean he left behind from the future, who knows how ugly their future is about to get, but then the moment is over because something invisible and monstrous had rushed at Dean and pulled him from Sam's hands.

It's still just as bad as the first time Sam watched it, except this time, Dean bears the weight of his death with quieter dignity, and doesn't run from the hounds he can now see. But Sam still feels the warm spray of blood on his face and the terrible urge to wretch.

He had, the first time. This time he'd known better.

He hadn't eaten all day.

When Lilith walks into the room, Sam just watches her coldly. He doesn't cower, just idly wonders which angel had been protecting him. He's decided that's what the light is, because it sure as hell isn't a blood power. A tiny part of him insist it belongs to Lucifer as it begins to get unbearably bright.

Or maybe Gabriel, at the very least.

Either way, it terrifies Lilith, and she scrambles backwards from the glow before making like a piñata and beating it.


	16. Chapter 16

He buries Dean, but this time, he doesn't do it out in the middle of nowhere.

After all, Dean will be confused enough as it is when he gets out. What the hell had Sam been thinking the first time? 

Oh, right.

It was secluded and far away enough that Bobby couldn't find Dean and dig him up to burn him properly. 

Those first few days he hadn't really been able to think straight. After he buried Dean, though, he had become sharp and dangerous. 

He was now, already aquatinted with the grief and pain.

And at least now he knew what Hell was like.

Two miles from Bobby's. That seems good enough for Sam. The fact that it's by the side of an ugly, cracked highway, he lets go, because this isn't the real resting place.

They'll die many more times before that comes around.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Carver Edlund coming right up.

The little man Sam knows to be God says in shock, "Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god.”

Sam freezes, "You’re not a god.” He says sharply.

Chuck shakes his head up at the both of them, Sam mentally reminding himself that it was the same thing Chuck said last time, “How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone -“

Sam shrugs as Dean shakes his head, no one knows it but he can’t argue.


	18. Chapter 18

He sat there, feeling hollow, a great tall thing that he was, crouched over himself like could protect his own fragile soul from the world that raged around it.

He acutely ached to ask Chuck.

_Am I doing alright? Have I fucked up again? What should I do?_

But he’d promised and no amount of internal agony was gonna make him go back on that.

He wasn’t even sure he _could_.

“Sam.” Chuck said in surprise. Sam’s head snapped up, “Hm?” 

Wait. Could Chuck prophesize his thoughts? _Shit._ How could he possibly guard against that?

“You need a drink, man. You look a little, uh…”

“Nah, I’m just… It’s a lot, you know?”

Even if Chuck thought it was the Winchester Gospels alone, Sam was okay with that.

“Ah, man, I don’t know… I think you’ve handled everything really well so far. I mean… at least _I_ wouldn’t have - Wha wait, Sam, what -“

Because Sam had gotten all 200 something pounds of himself up and moose hugged Chuck. And yeah, no, he knew it wasn’t God, it was just Chuck Shurely, who smelled faintly of desperation and alcohol, but he still felt a Hell of a lot lighter for it.

“Thanks, Chuck, I needed that.” He patted Chuck on the shoulder and started walking towards the door, “You haven’t been doing too bad yourself.” He calls out behind him, missing the soft and gentle look that Chuck has on his face as he watches the Winchester exit.


End file.
